


Peer

by allcanadiangirl (andchimeras)



Series: Maroon & Gold [1]
Category: Everwood
Genre: Biting, Blood, Breathplay, Bruises, Fight Sex, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-03
Updated: 2003-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:52:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andchimeras/pseuds/allcanadiangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peak County High basement, Thursday, three-thirty in the afternoon. Bright has blocked the exit, Ephram has dropped his fists. They are staring in the dim light, Ephram smirks.</p><p>"Hit me," he says. "I know you want to."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peer

Peak County High basement, Thursday, three-thirty in the afternoon. Bright has blocked the exit, Ephram has dropped his fists. They are staring in the dim light, Ephram smirks.

"Hit me," he says. "I know you want to."

There are five feet, and Bright makes them count, flexing his fingers, ready. Ready. He's already hard.

He stands quite close, not that close, and looks straight into Ephram's defiant eyes as he punches him in the jaw, left side.

Ephram comes back, still amused. "Come on," he says. "Kick my ass. Fucking hick."

Bright smiles too, but he doesn't feel it—he feels the cartilage of Ephram's nose give under his knuckles, he feels the split of the flesh inside. He feels Ephram stagger a little this time, and he makes his move.

Pushing him against the concrete wall, forearm across his throat, feeling him work for breath, swallowing. Bright presses closer, no reason other than it feels good, is about to deliver a short jab to his right kidney when. Just that much closer and. Ephram is hard too.

Ephram's eyes go wide, Bright's hold loosens enough for him to get his hands up, shove back, but he doesn't. He doesn't. He stays tense on the wall, throat working in the shadow.

"Get your fucking hands off me," Ephram says. Hoarse. Blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, his nose.

Bright is. Confused. Doesn't know what to do—if he wants out, he could—but he doesn't. Bright shakes his head, "No," crushes Ephram's throat again. Delivers that kidney shot, choked exhalation hot against his ear. Panic in his eyes, he tries to get air back. Into. His. Lungs.

Bright keeps punching, leans into him, pulls his hits a little but not too much. Ephram's mouth is open, wide, open, eyes dark and open, it's easy to kiss him. Tongue finds bitten cheek, bitten tongue, blood diluted by saliva. Copper-tinged slick, warm, even his teeth are warm. Hard suction, something like mouth-to-mouth, feel Ephram's nostrils flare against his cheek.

He starts to struggle, one hand wrapping hard around the arm at his throat, the other clutches at Bright's shoulder, pulling him in. Bright's fist opens, open over his ribs and hip, grabs him close. Too many layers to get much friction going, but it's nice, it's going to get better, it's there, that. Ridge in Ephram's jeans.

Ephram's teeth on his tongue, closing just enough to make him moan.

The shock of fingers suddenly against his stomach, shoving, nails scraping, pulling at his jeans. Ephram makes a desperate noise down Bright's throat when his hand is knocked away. Bright pushes harder from top to bottom, his thigh. Hard between Ephram's knees, further up, he makes contact and Ephram.

The physics between their lips strained, breaking. Ephram pulls free, gasping, he tries to speak.

His head knocks the wall, eyes squeeze shut. "Shit." His voice breaks.

Warmth around Bright's knee, Ephram's fists hit the concrete on either side. He jerks forward, then back.

Bright removes his arm, falling back, stepping away as. Ephram slides down the wall, lands on the floor with one knee bent, eyes closed. He doesn't touch his neck, he never does, just takes long breaths for awhile, and then deeper ones through his nose. He wipes a hand across his face, grimaces at the red and pink smeared over his skin.

"Nothing like overkill," he says, rusty. Winces, prods at his side. "Fuck."

Bright doesn't know. What to do with his hands. He looks at his knuckles, the barest bruises, he wonders why Ephram never hits him back—he wouldn't stop him. He wants him to.

"You can go," Ephram says. Sounds almost fine. "I'm fine."

Yeah. He'd be gone by now, except. He thinks he should offer a ride home or something. Bright shrugs, leaves.

In the stairwell, he licks Ephram's blood from the back of his hand.

 

End.


End file.
